


she begs a promise in the ephemeral.

by gatheredfates (seafaringheart)



Series: Prompt Collections [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Ambiguous Character Death, Angst, F/M, Tessduin, idk what else to tag this as SUE ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafaringheart/pseuds/gatheredfates
Summary: She asks him to stay.a one-shot created from @sagamemes ask prompts on Tumblr 'fifty ways to kiss someone' for my roleplay blog @gilneans.
Relationships: Tess Greymane/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Prompt Collections [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803685
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	she begs a promise in the ephemeral.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! In the wake of me archiving my old Tess Greymane blog (gilneans-a) and giving myself a fresh start, I wanted to archive some of my favourite ask prompts for prosperity. This work was created using three of @sagamemes fifty ways to kiss someone: 'a promise', 'a comfort' and 'because their time is running out'. If you like my work, you can also catch me crying over Tess (and Anduin by extension) over on @saltandseas on Twitter or catch me roleplaying my interpretation of Tess on @gilneans. Thanks for reading!
> 
> I haven't tagged this as major character death because the ending is ambiguous; however, if that kind of content is triggering, please do not consume this work. Thank you!

_ **The king was dying.** _

Those were the words thrust like daggers into her facade; words she first thought were rumour-mongering until terrified expressions spoke a truth she knew was no falsehood, and the harshness of war was brought to prominence.

_Men_ die. **Kings** die. But not him. _Please not him._

A step from the shadows, a flash of steel; pale skin marred with blood that was not her own, spelling plain a precise excellence that ushered her into the Uncrowned, and stray strands of brown hair clinging to her face — long since loosened from its tight plait. By all accounts, Tess Greymane should not be present on the battlefield, not in sight where her father’s men had eyes like hawks upon her rabbit’s heart, but such details mattered little to her now. Not when brown eyes settled on the sight before her: a nightmare wreathed in reality, manifested in their failings.

❝ Anduin — _**!**_ ❞ His name caught on her tongue, choked out with the dread that festered in her gut and twisted the lining, giving pause to stare at how he lay so feebly on the dirt like the thousands of men and women who came before him. Such hesitation was fleeting before she rushed to his side, pushing away the guards that dared to hinder her efforts, and her knees hit heavy on the ground as she collapsed at his side by the healers working desperately to save him.

She wondered if this was how her father felt sitting on the precipice of life and death with Liam, watching powerlessly as the one he loved slipped from his grip, and why cruel irony should see his living kin repeat it. Her hands hovered uselessly over the High King’s chest, fool’s prayers cast to gods ( _light, dark, it mattered not_ ) to preserve him, whilst panicked breathing mimicked thoughts that swept her up like a torrent. Surely there was something she could do: a potion, a spell, a prayer. Something. ** _ANYTHING —_**

The steel which took her hand was _cold_. Tess inhaled sharply, feeling how the breath shook in her ribcage with a terror that was so unlike her — and yet, quite **like** him, Anduin was one of the few that could bring back. Exhaling, she tried to ignore the water that pricked in the corners of her eyes as she met his gaze.

❝ Must you paint so bright a target? ❞ She chided, her voice barely a whisper. It was enough for him to hear if the weakened chuckle was any indication, and even she could not help but smile at his retort.

❝ I’ll try to be subtler next time.❞  


_Next time._ Two words which spoke so much promise, but were not reflected. Anduin’s complexion was a sheen of grey and green; sweaty from fever, marred with little veins of purple and black and dark circles beneath his eyes. Lower still revealed the source: a bloody arrow lodged through the armour. Assuming it had not hit any vital organs, his body was still infected. Even if he was lucky, it might not be enough. She tried not to look at it.

❝ Don’t you think about leaving me, ❞ Tess ~~pleaded~~ ordered, as if though mere thought could prevent an inevitability she felt they were careening towards. But what would it be if he was not comforting her in spite of injury? The hand that held her own pressed the back of her palm to his lips and she did her best not to wince at the stain it left. At the same time, her other reached for his cheek and thumbed the blood away from the corner of his mouth, rare affections normally given only in private, and she swallowed hard before continuing. ❝ Do you hear me, Anduin? The Alliance needs you — I need you. Promise me. ❞

❝ I promise — ❞ he answered. 

They would not get another opportunity to speak. Though his guard had done their best to pull the king from the thick of battle, they knew full well they had to retreat unless they risk the Horde pushing in further, and the delay was only in the medical supplies to transport him properly. She saw it in the white of the stretcher and the healer's grim faces; their hands tentatively reaching for her shoulders to keep her. She was no medic and therefore was no good.

Defying them for just a moment she leaned in and kissed Anduin’s forehead, that same free hand brushing blonde hair from his face as the other held his tightly. ❝ I love you, ❞ she told him, as if though ** _love_** — much like anything else — was enough to save him. It was foolish. She knew the truth.

Tess kept her hand in his as long as it took for him to be loaded onto the stretcher. She kept it longer still as they began to move, her grip breaking only when her fingers could not stretch so far. She watched them leave with nothing but terror in her heart, knowing it would not do her well to follow.

For a while her left hand rubbed the bloodstain on her right before she broke, reaching to press the bottom of her palms to her eye sockets as if that pain could steal her.

It didn’t.

She sobbed.


End file.
